


The 6666th Unintelligible Russian Lottery of Time: Part I

by panbinod



Series: The 6666th Unintelligible Russian Lottery of Time [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Original Work, The Hunger Games (Movies), The Lottery - Shirley Jackson
Genre: Abduction, Accidental Death, Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Burglary, Caily is a jumpy bitch, Cats, Child Death, F/F, F/M, Fake Hunger Games, Fruit Snack Smuggling, Gangs, Hate Crimes, Hunger Games References, Hunger Games Ripoff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insurance, Kidnapping, Manslaughter, Murder, On the Run, Painting, Patricide, Police, Prison, Running Away, Smuggling, Stabbing, Tranquilizers, Vigilantism, fruit snacks, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26621962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panbinod/pseuds/panbinod
Summary: Someone will die... of fun! Criminals are punished for crimes by having to compete in challenges and whoever loses gets the most tickets into the lottery. If you *win* the lottery you will be stoned to death. The six must band together to banish the lottery once and for all.(That's the summary we had written and I'm not changing it. READ THE TAGS!!!!!)
Series: The 6666th Unintelligible Russian Lottery of Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936675
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. 1st cHapter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is basically a crackfic! My irl friends and I wrote this in ~2 months. Fair warning, the first 4 chapters are rather violent. I don't think it's that graphic, but be warned. 
> 
> TW: Stealing, murder of a thief, Russian stereotype probably, intentionally bad grammar

No one could argue with the fact that Sergei Smirnov was a strange man. 

On the other hand, no one could argue with the fact that Smirnov Shoes had the best shoes in town. Actually, several people could argue with that, such as the family of the late Mr. Carhorne (former owner of Shoes by Carhorne), and the people who like their boots thin-soled and uncomfortably stiff. 

But Sergei was strange. Standing at a height that was slightly shorter than the average man and taller than the average woman, he was intimidating nonetheless, if only because he seemed to fear nothing. Nearly every piece of clothing he wore was patched or looked as if it was made from the scraps of several other pieces of clothing. 

His shop was just as scavenged. A bench that people used to try on shoes was the bench that was left outside, broken, with the trash. The desk in the back was the desk that was left at the end of a driveway with a sign that said “FREE” taped crookedly to the front. 

One day, a sign was in the window. “HELP WÄNTED. ENQUIRE WITH IN.” 

By the end of the week, Sergei had one candidate: a freckled teen with greasy black hair. 

Sergei began “training” him for the job. Basically, Sergei briefly explained how to operate a cash register and what the protocol was for certain situations. 

“If customer complain about price, say you will talk to Sergei about price. Then point at Bargain Wall.” 

“Then I tell you about their complaint?” 

“No. Sergei does not care. Price stay the same.” 

“What if they come back and want to know why the price hasn’t changed?” 

“Call them debil and say they can get shoe from cheap store.” 

And: 

“What if someone comes in with a weapon and tries to rob from the store?” 

“Only a problem if forget crossbow at house.” 

And: 

“What do I do if someone tries to shoplift?” 

“This is why you need crossbow.” 

And so on. 

The teen, Edgar, turned out to be a fine worker, if lacking some charisma. Soon, however, Sergei found himself with the funds to hire an additional employee. 

This hire was another young man, a bit older than Edgar. He wasn’t the sharpest arrow in the quiver by a long shot, but charming enough that he could be trusted to help customers while Edgar stocked shelves. 

Everything was going smoothly. The money in the tip jar increased, and Sergei was considering getting another employee. 

Then one night, Sergei was in his office dealing with money while Edgar laced boots in the workroom. Both were focusing on their tasks. 

Until their concentration was broken by the sound of breaking glass. 

Sergei bolted to a standing position. He grabbed the crossbow that was under his desk. 

He crept to the main part of the store, followed by Edgar. 

A crashing noise sounded. 

Sergei peered around a shelf to see the cash register on the floor, smashed open. 

Someone was huddled over it, frantically scraping out money and cramming it into a bag. 

Sergei notched an arrow and aimed it at the thief’s forearm. 

He let it fly. 

The thief collapsed forward with a shriek. 

Edgar calmly walked forward and used the toe of his boot to turn the thief’s head, so their face was visible. 

It was the other employee. 

Edgar stepped back. “You really are stupid, aren’t you? You didn’t even bother to check who else was still here. Unlucky for you, both of us were.” 

Sergei stepped forward to stand beside Edgar. “Equal unlucky, I have weapon. And you have none.” 

Edgar turned to Sergei. “Give me something sharp.” 

Sergei complied, handing Edgar a dagger. 

Edgar grinned. 

Half an hour later, they tossed the thief out in the street. 

Sergei locked the door and dumped the cash back in the register. He grabbed the backpack and frowned. “We should burn this.” 

“While you’re at it, I’ll burn my jacket too,” Edgar offered, shrugged the bloodied garment off his shoulders. 

Sergei dumped a bottle of strong-smelling liquid on the ground. It melted away the blood and the other stains, leaving smooth linoleum. 

Morning found Smirnov Shoes closed and the new hire dead in a ditch, the word “THIEF” slashed across his forehead. 

Sergei and Edgar had vanished without a trace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caily's intro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second introduction chapter. This is one of the chapters my friend wrote.
> 
> TW: running away, shoplifting, past child abuse, "accidental" murder

CAILY'S POV

My name is Caily Valeron and I am in big trouble. 

It all started when my English teacher asked me to stay after class with her. I knew I was in deep trouble. Apparently, I had bombed another test. This was the worst grade yet. A 37%, that one stung. It was on another pointless book that I refused to read. 

When I got home, my mom was sitting on the couch with her signature “disappointed” face. 

“You got another bad grade?” she grumbled. “That’s the third one this week.” 

“I’m sorry but the book we were supposed to read was 1300 pages!” I returned. “I am not spending my valuable time as a senior reading this crap. I have more important things to do.” 

“You’re grounded.” My mom was a freaking dictator. “And you have to redo the test after you read this book.” She picked up the book and handed it to me. 

I stomped up to my room and started packing. I had somewhere to be. 

I dove out the window and landed on the flowerbeds outside. I straightened out my clothes and went through my hair with my fingers. It was finally time. 

I had been trying to run away for years now and this time I thought I could finally do it. I bought a train ticket to the city and away from our small town. I even got myself a room in a cheap hotel. I didn’t have much money, but I did know what I wanted to do with my life, and that was a start. 

I was going to be an artist. That was my dream. So, when I got to my hotel I immediately unpacked and looked over my meager possessions. I had a canvas, a couple pairs of clothes, my boots on my feet, and a paint brush. I had nothing to paint with or draw with. I couldn’t take anything else or else I would arouse suspicion. 

I decided to go “shopping” or as some may call it, stealing. 

I went to the richest paint store in the whole city and grabbed some of the fanciest paints possible. I pretended to walk out uninterested and horrified by the prices. The paints were in my various coat and pants pockets. There were even some in my boots. 

I ran back to my hotel trying to be inconspicuous, but I thought I had someone trailing me. 

I walked around the same block 5 times and then back the way I came from. When I thought I had confused them thoroughly, I walked into my hotel and laid down on the bed. I had a painting to design. 

I blasted music at the highest volume I could. I slashed the brush across the canvas like a skilled swordsman with his favorite sword. A rainbow of colors dashed across it. I felt like I could fly. 

By the time I was done, I had a landscape painting of a forest and a sunset over top of it. It was a pretty solid painting that I could make a profit off of. I also recreated works of art and sold them to people. 

Just as I was trying to get some sleep, I heard a knock on the window. I got up and walked over to it. I looked out and saw a familiar face. My best friend, Skyler. Her real name was Daisy, but she absolutely hated it, so she changed it. 

She had run away a few weeks ago and set up camp in an abandoned camp. There was still electricity and everything. That was the base of our plan. She had come to take me to her place. 

I climbed out the window and followed her through the streets of the city. We approached the edge of town and I could see a blazing bonfire. Apparently, Skyler had made some friends. 

I walked into the circle of people, mostly teenagers. They were all talking and laughing while making s’mores. I was uneasy because this seemed too natural. 

“What’d ya think?” asked Skyler. “Did I do a good job or what?” 

“You did,” I answered. “I just feel like this is too good to be true.” 

“It isn’t,” she replied. “I know you. You are just trying to find a reason to leave and that’s not happening.” 

I had to admit she was right. I didn’t like people generally. 

I went and sat down next to a nice-looking girl who looked a bit lonely. 

“Hey,” she said. 

“Hey. Did you run away too?” I asked her. 

“Yeah. My dad was abusive, and I had to run fast. I don’t have much.” 

“That’s rough. I left to follow my dreams of being an artist.” 

“That’s nice. I’m going to follow my dreams too.” 

“Good for you!” At that point Skyler was calling me to meet the leader. 

“This is Amber,” Skyler said. “Amber this is Caily.” 

“Caily. An unusual name,” Amber said. “Where is it from?” 

“My grandmother’s maiden name was Caily,” I responded, “And I have no idea where it’s from.” 

“Well I hope you feel comfortable and safe here,” Amber said. 

I walked back over to where the younger girl was sitting before. She apparently had gone somewhere because when I got back someone else was sitting right there. 

I saw some tracks and I decided she had wondered off into the woods to use the bathroom. I went back to sit next to Skyler. 

We ate and relaxed some more, and the young girl still hadn’t come back yet. I decided to follow her. I went back to the start of the tracks and followed them into the deep blackness of the woods. 

I walked for about 10 minutes before I heard some scuffling in the woods. I didn’t see the tracks anymore, so I assumed it was an animal. I drew out my knife that I had picked up from a rich person on the way. 

I walked towards the bushes where I heard the sound. I saw movement and stabbed at it. 

The last thing I saw before I started running was the blood of the young girl running all over the ground. I was in huge trouble and I was all alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next two chapters are introduction chapters. After that it gets less violent.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cleo's intro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: fruit snacks, tranquilizers, vehicle hijacking

CLEO'S POV

My name is Cleo. My last name was lost long ago. 

Who am I? I’m a pain. A backstabber. A businesswoman. 

Welcome to the business. 

Or at least, as much of a businesswoman as I can be. At sixteen, I should be living the normal life. I should be a junior applying to colleges, hanging out with friends, and making the same stupid mistakes teenagers tend to make. 

Life doesn’t always turn out that way. 

As the head of a fruit snack smuggling business, secrecy is priority. The stakes are too high to live a normal life. Besides, fruit snacks are life. 

Who needs anything else? 

I didn’t. Or at least I didn’t think I did. Until doing the very thing I loved gave me a death wish. 

I was riding my motorcycle. My long dark brown hair was blowing in the wind above my leather jacket and jeans. I was careful that my manners be casual. No use having cops on the scene. 

As the wind rushed by me, I weaved between cars on the highway. Several hundred yards behind me was a large white truck. Located in the back were several hundred boxes filled with thousands of packets filled with tens of thousands of fruit snacks. A distracted young man with crooked teeth was nodding on the wheel, having no idea what was bound to happen. 

We had been planning this operation for several weeks. Every minute was planned precisely. Every possibility was mulled over, debated, and decided. 

I could feel the butterflies in my stomach fluttering, fluttering. 

With the roar of the engine, I took the exit. The white van followed. 

Behind us, carefully planned cars crashed together. Car horns blared. Windows shattered. Nobody was hurt. 

Perfect. I held my breath. Flutter, flutter. 

Five minutes later, I pulled into the rendezvous. Graffiti covered the cement walls of the small alleyway. 

The door of the white truck slammed shut behind me. A coworker of mine with long blonde hair and a smug expression stepped out of the driver’s seat. 

I nodded and the butterflies released as I turned around. The tradeoff had worked. “Olive,” I said. 

“Boss,” she replied. 

“Everything smooth?” 

“As expected, quick tradeoff, nothing suspicious.” 

“The goods?” 

“Safe.” Olive proceeded to open the trunk. A man was tied with rope in the back. His eyes widened. The gag covered his crooked teeth. 

I nodded slowly. 

“You’re sure you weren’t followed?” 

“Yes,” Olive muttered. 

I proceeded to examine the truck. The fruit snacks shined to me, begging my attention. There were so many. This would fund the team for weeks, as well as feed us. 

“Great job,” I said. 

As Olive moved the goods, I rode away. 

I am always riding away. 

Later that evening, I parked my motorcycle and sat on a bench near a park. I had a bag of fruit snacks in one hand and was zipping my coat with the other. 

My phone began to ring, and I picked it up. 

“Hello?” I said. “Hello?” 

There was no answer. 

I furrowed my brow and hurried to leave. 

I remember a sharp pain in my shoulder. The world blurred and spun, then everything went black. 

Welcome to the business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last introduction.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greta's intro.
> 
> TW: murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know it is short. One of the other authors wrote this then immediately flaked out soon after. So me and the other two just took over their character.

Greta Gable wasn’t exactly peculiar. That didn’t change that fact that she did something very unexpected. Greta wasn’t a violent person. In fact, she had never done anything worse than get a speeding ticket when she was 26. But that all changed when 2 police officers showed up at the 58-year old’s apartment building and found her and her 13 cats standing there with the body of Greta’s dead husband covered in blood on the floor. 

When the police found Greta, she didn’t look shocked or frightened. She didn’t look like anything at all. Her face was completely blank. When the cops questioned her, she just stared at them blankly and said, “He deserved it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two fvcking paragraphs....  
> Chapter 5 up tomorrow...probably


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this in bio class. 
> 
> TW: abduction, some stabbing

The sun rose over the tree where Sergei was perched. He narrowed his eyes at the sky. 

It was quiet. Too quiet. 

Edgar shivered on the branch below Sergei. “I wish I hadn’t burned my jacket.” 

Sergei didn’t answer. He scanned the trees. 

Edgar sighed in irritation. “They won’t find us. We haven’t heard police sirens in a long time.” 

“The people I look for are not have sirens,” Sergei replied irately. 

A flicker of movement. A twig snapping. 

Sergei’s head snapped up. 

“It’s just a rabbit,” Edgar huffed. 

It was just a rabbit. A pure white rabbit, frolicking among the dead leaves. 

Sergei furrowed his brows. It was too noticeable among the leaves. And it had a yellow tag clamped on one ear. 

Sergei gasped. He knew this tactic. 

Before he could say something, anything, the forest was coming alive with people. 

Sergei tried to escape. But faster than quick, they were upon him. 

Edgar let out an angry roar and drove his pocketknife into an attacker’s sternum. He twisted the knife and yanked it out, poised to do the same to another. 

But there were too many, and before long, Edgar was incapacitated as well.


	6. 6 chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cail;y

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: more abduction

The wind and rain whipped at my face while I ran through the forest. I could hear sirens and I felt nauseous. I was in a daze and couldn’t believe what I had done. 

I had to leave everything that I had been setting up for months. I couldn’t believe that I had ruined it. I ruined everything. 

I looked down at my legs and saw only gashes and scrapes. I decided that it was time for a rest. 

I sat down near a stream and washed my legs off. I gulped down some water and pondered what to do next. 

I found a berry bush and decided to risk being poisoned. I guessed that they were blackberries that weren’t ripe yet. 

I gulped down a few and puckered my lips. I continued eating and thought about sleeping. I decided to keep running to find a town. I ran north and after an hour or so I emerged from the forest onto a road. 

I followed the road until I got to a small village. I knocked on a door and waited. A young woman came to answer it. 

“Hello ma’am,” I said politely. “I’m Sarah. May I come in?” 

“Yes. Where are you from?” she asked me. 

“I’m from the city. My mother kicked me out and I am looking for a place to stay.” 

“You may stay here with me. Although I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep on the floor.” 

“Thank you very much,” I said. “I am eternally grateful.” 

She held the door open and I walked inside. It was a small cabin, cozy and warm. I saw a cradle in the middle of the room in front of the fire. I saw no husband and realized she was on her own. 

“Here you are.” She handed me a blanket and told me I could sleep on the carpet in front of the fire or somewhere else. 

I spent a few days in the town, selling art and sleeping on the floor of the small cabin of the woman. One day I was coming home from selling another piece of art and something felt off. 

“Hello Caily,” she said coldly. “You’ve been lying to me, fugitive.” 

“Ma’am, I can explain,” I reasoned. “I... I accidentally killed a kid. But I didn’t mean to, I promise! Don’t sell me out. Please!” 

“Too late,” a deep voice said. “Here I am, kid.” 

I felt a sharp pain in my arm and my vision blurred. I felt my body crash to the ground, and I heard the woman and the deep voice talking. 

“Wait, you promised not to take her!” the woman’s voice said. 

“That was before you harbored a fugitive,” the deep voice responded. 

“No! You can’t take my child! No!” 

I awoke with a start. I was on the floor of a cell. I shivered and strained my eyes to look for something—anything. I heard crying from the cell next door. I looked over and saw the child of the woman. 

So, it wasn’t a dream? I thought to myself. I got up and walked over towards the crying. I reached through the bars and grabbed her. 

“Come here, Tali.” Her name was really Natalia, although her mother would always call her Tali. I tried to pull her through the bars. She just barely fit. I didn’t know what to do with a child other than that, although it seemed to relax her. 

I decided that I would sing to her to help her sleep. 

“Hush little baby don’t say a word, mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird,” I sang. “If that mockingbird won’t sing, mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.” I kept humming to that tune. 

I heard a voice from the cell on the other side of me. “Huh. What did they bring you in for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hngh tired


	7. the chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cleo here now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more references to abduction, referenced traquilizers

“If that diamond ring turns to brass, Mama’s gonna buy you a looking glass.” 

I woke to a lullaby. 

I hadn’t heard one in years, not since I left home. 

My head throbbed against the cold stone floor. I was in a cold prison cell, and the faint scent of rust filled the senses. 

My arm throbbed where I had been shot with the tranquilizer. 

The tranquilizer. The park. 

What was going on? 

As I slowly pulled myself into a sitting position, I blearily looked around. A young woman with blonde hair and a small figure sat in the cell besides mine. She held a baby and stared into the distance. I could only guess what was running through her mind. 

I cleared my throat. “Huh. What did they bring you in for?” I was never fond of the conventional greeting. 

She sat up, startled, her platinum blonde hair catching the light. The tips were colored with various washed-out dyes. Her movement startled the small child in her arms. “Shh, shh,” she cooed, narrowing her hazel eyes. There was a gleam in them that told me she had more to her than meets the eye. 

“They got me for killing a kid out of instinct,” she blurted out. 

Wow. That was blunt. 

“This is the kid of the woman who turned me in. Before she turned me in, she helped me make a living. Her kid got taken because she harbored me,” she said. “Her name is Tali.” 

She was honest. I could respect that, even if I couldn’t understand it. 

Tali babbled and the girl rocked her gently. 

“And . . . what was your name?” I asked. 

“I’m Caily,” she responded, “And yours is?” 

“You can call me Cleo.” 

“Nice to meet you, Cleo. We are going to get out of here.” There was a finality to her tone. I certainly could have argued, maybe I should have, but I couldn’t quite work up the energy. 

“Wish we could have met under better circumstances,” I muttered. “How long have you been here?” 

“Not long. I woke when Tali started crying.” 

“Where did you learn to sing like that?” 

“My grandmother taught me. She used to sing me to sleep.” 

Family, then. Another thing we haven’t got in common. 

We sat in silence for a while. My thoughts whirled around themselves, calling for attention. 

“What’s yours?” she asked. 

I looked up. “My what?” 

“Your story.” 

I folded my arms and leaned back. A moment passed before I spoke. “Let’s just say that I’ve been involved with some . . . risky people. I’ve learned to fend for myself,” I said, eyeing her. “There were times when I was younger that I had no choice but to find means to put food on the table. Then there just came the moment where I left home altogether. I’ve been in the city alone for years now. Or at least I had been.” 

“I couldn’t live without people around me.” Her hazel eyes flashed, and she pursed her thin lips. 

“You get used to it.” 

I felt a sudden sadness overwhelm me and I turned away. I couldn’t let her see that side of me. 

I’m a businesswoman. Stable, calm. 

“Are you okay?” Caily asked, clutching Tali. 

“Sorry. I still don’t feel quite right after the tranquilizer.” Caily’s eyes widened. “Listen, I can see you’re tired. I’ll hold the baby while you rest.” 

“Thanks. I haven’t slept for real in days.” She passed Tali through the bars. 

I rocked the child, admiring her tiny features. She was so fragile. 

When I was sure that Caily had drifted off, I leaned over Tali. 

“You can keep a secret, can’t you?” I whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy valentines day. next chapter up within the hour


	8. eighth chpater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> great misery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> implied mafia

Greta was 28 when she met Arnold. She was at a party for her father's insurance company. Arnold was an employee--not to mention handsome. 

“Hello,” Arnold said as he appeared in front of Greta. “Do you work here too?” 

“No,” she replied. “But my father’s the CEO.” 

“Oh! So, you’re the Greta Makiery we’ve been hearing about.” 

“Yes. And you are?” 

“Arnold. Arnold Gable.” 

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Gable. I assume you work for my father.” 

“Yes. Yes, I do. Your father’s a great man.” 

“HA!” Greta interrupted. “You don’t know who he really is.” 

“Umm alright.” Arnold chuckled nervously. "And what do you mean by that?” 

“He has many secrets.” 

“What kind of secrets?” 

“He’s part of the m-” 

“Hello, Greta.” 

“Father! Sorry I didn’t see you there.” 

“I see you’ve met Arnold. He’s a great advertiser. As well as one of my closest friends. We wouldn't want him getting any... unfortunate ideas, now would we?” He whispered the last sentence into Greta’s ear, making her shiver with fear. 

“I'm just getting to know him, Father,” Greta said bitterly. 

“Excuse me, I should probably get going,” Arnold continued, uncertain of what was going on. “It was nice to meet you Greta.” 

“You too Mr. Gable,” Greta replied. 

“Just call me Arnold. I’ll see you next week Mr. Makiery.” 

“Yes. Yes, you will,” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really should be doing my homework shouldn't i


	9. chpater Of 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sergei awaken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: references to kidnapping, imprisonment, and death

Sergei awoke in dim light. What happened? he thought. 

He remembered the woods. Hiding in a tree. The ambush. 

His eyes flared open and he sat up, taking in his surroundings. 

He was in a gray cell. One wall had a large patch of faint tally marks, as if someone had tried to wash them off. 

There was writing on another wall, barely visible. Sergei stepped closer to read it. 

Run! Escape! one message urged. They’re going to kill you, claimed another. Drawings of faces were sprinkled throughout, all screaming—whether in pain or fear, Sergei could not tell. 

In one corner, there was a circle that was a different color and texture that the rest of the wall—as if someone had dug a hole and it had been filled in. 

Sergei surveyed the other walls. Escape didn’t seem to be an option. 

He sighed and checked his pockets. His crossbow had been taken, of course, but he still had his emergency stash of arrows, as well as a small pot of ink, a sharp metal stick, a small notebook, his flask, a small first-aid kit, and a switchblade. 

A noise startled him. It took a few seconds for him to process the sound. It was the wail of a small child. 

Another noise followed it. It sounded like someone was trying to soothe the child. 

“Come, come,” said a female voice. “Caily,” the person said sharply. “The baby’s awake.” 

“Alright then. Pass her on through,” another voice said wearily. “I’ll take it from here.” 

Edgar awoke to the sound of voices and crying. He groaned. “Where the heck am I? What is going on?” 

The second voice began to sing. “And if that looking glass gets broke, mama’s gonna buy you a billy goat . . . ” 

“Who are you, anyway?” Edgar asked. “Does anyone know where we are or how we got here?” 

There was a brief silence. 

“Am Sergei. Enough said.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m Cleo. Were you hit with tranquilizer darts?” The first voice was too far away to glimpse. 

“It was an ambush!” Edgar declared. “One minute Sergei sees a rabbit, next thing I know, the trees are made of people.” 

“They got me with a poisoned knife.” This voice was the singer. “Oh, I’m Caily by the way.” 

“We keep saying they, but what do we really know about them?” said Cleo suspiciously. 

“They reuse old tricks,” offered Sergei. 

“There’s a man that I caught a glimpse of,” Caily answered. “I didn’t see him well, but I would know that voice anywhere.” The baby began to cry. 

“SHUT UP WHAT ARE YOU A CHILD OR SOMETHING!” Edgar shouted at it. 

Cleo snickered. 

“She’s two, you imbecile!” Caily shouted almost into the abyss. “It’s not my fault either. I have absolutely no experience with children other than the past couple hours. I have killed one though,” she added as an afterthought. 

“Do you always have to introduce yourself that way?” murmured Cleo. She laughed when Caily glared at her. 

“I just respect people with faults,” Caily grumbled. “What are you guys in here for?” 

Edgar grinned, flashing his white teeth. “Homicide.” 

“Shut up,” Sergei growled. 

“At least we have something in common.” Caily laughed. “Who?” 

“A stupid thief,” Edgar said, ignoring Sergei’s irritated sounds. 

“He stole from you I assume. I thought a kid was an animal in the woods and accidentally stabbed her,” Caily explained. 

“I worked for Mr. Snarly over there. Another employee tried to steal stuff while both of us were there. Mr. Snarly apparently keeps a loaded crossbow in his desk.” 

“Sounds like an interesting boss.” Caily smiled. “What’s your name, Snarly?” 

“Am Sergei, you blonde tramp.” 

“You’re fun!” Caily laughed, unfazed by the insult. “Cleo, you’ve been quiet for a while, what do you think?” 

“Well, Ms. Sunshine, from what I can tell, these nice gentlemen are our ticket out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hnghghhhhh i am not allowed to leave my room rn so im posting this


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cleo and edgar interaction bc fuck it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just ate a burrito

“Welch it!” I exclaimed; my teeth gritted. “Couldn’t you at least try to be helpful?” 

Caily looked up groggily. “What?” This was followed by one of Sergei’s loud snores and a babble from Tali’s. 

I sighed and sat on my cot, gathering my hair into a tight ponytail. As a group--or whatever we could call ourselves—we had been observing the guard’s shifts and movements for several hours. So far it was surprisingly boring for a suspicious prison, but I was determined to find something helpful. 

Through a small hole in my cell, bits of moonlight were streaming in. I slouched on my cot with arms folded, my ears attuned to the careful rhythm of a guard’s shoes on the floor. Tap, tap. He turned the corner. 

The guard neared my cell. I could imagine his eyes peering into the darkness. I shivered and tensed. I crouched forward until my fingers grasped the prison bars. I felt along until I touched fabric. “Perfect,” I muttered. 

He turned on his heels and strode away. Tap, tap, tap. 

I let out a long breath and sat back. “Edgar,” I whispered. “Edgar.” He was the only one awake. 

“Cleo?” 

“Guess what I’ve got,” I said. 

“What do you have?” 

I opened my hand. On my palm lay the guard’s ID, a small plastic square with a poorly taken picture of the guard, smiling toothily. The guard would not report the loss, for fear of losing his job. 

I had been through all of this before. Of course, it wouldn’t matter that we had pass unless we could find a way to escape the cells. The pass would at least us out of the complex, but it would not let us out of the cells. 

Us? I had to stop thinking like that. 

“The prize.” 

Somebody had ratted me out to the police, I could not let that kind of betrayal happen again. I had to be wary, cautious. 

I had to escape. 

Edgar chuckled. “Caily will be jealous.” 

I slipped the card into my pocket. 

I smiled. “Yeah,” I said, as I drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter up in 5 minutes


	11. The Eleventh Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> great misery 2 electric boogaloo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: guns, referenced murder, kidnapping, more tranquilizers

Greta sat in the police station for what seemed like hours before someone came to question her. 

After some time, a man walked in. “Ma’am, we have sufficient evidence that you killed this man.” He held up a picture of Greta’s husband, Arnold. “What could you say to make us believe otherwise?” 

“You are correct.” She gave in. “I definitely killed my husband; may he rest in pieces.” 

What they didn’t know was that Greta didn’t actually kill him, although you shouldn’t know that. Yet. 

“Alright then. We will transfer you to a minimum-security prison across town as soon as we are finished interrogating you,” the man responded. “Now. How did you kill him?” 

“Ah the perfect game of clue. It was Greta in the foyer with the knife.” Greta seemed as if she were playing games, although she soon would be. 

The man ushered her out of the cell and into a police squad car on the curb. They had used handcuffs although they were quite loose and not uncomfortable. 

She stared out of the window while they drove across town. They passed over a speed bump rather quickly and Greta hit her head on the top of the car. They then stopped rather abruptly. 

“Get out of the car!” a deep voice yelled above the din of confused police. He had a strange accent that many would have thought to be German. Greta knew it was Russian. 

“Give us the prisoner and we will leave all of you alone,” another voice, higher, but masculine, demanded. She looked towards the men forming a perimeter outside. Each held a gun in the ready position. 

Greta was shoved out of the car. Her father’s drills kicked in and she put her hands on her head. 

Then several things happened at once. 

Gunshots. Two of the police dead as they tried to run towards her. 

“Don’t come for me. I’m not worth it,” Greta screaming. 

And out of the havoc and blood, a man with a deep voice. “The old lady is correct. She is not worth this.” 

A man emerged from behind the leader holding a syringe. He plunged it into her arm and pressed down. She fell onto the pavement and they dragged her off into a car and drove off into the city. They had a lengthy flight ahead of them. 

. . . 

She awoke laying on a cold floor with 5 pairs of eyes all on her. This was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second part of the series will be up this weekend (probably)


End file.
